My sister-sons
by A Once Told Story
Summary: The Battle of The Five Armies. Thorin lay dying on the battle field, silence blocking out everything but his own thoughts. Fíli is gone, Kíli may be too. With the grief still close, Thorin laments over his nephews' lives and what role he played in their fates. [warning, here there be feels... oh, and spoilers!]


**Here there be spoilers!**

_Reader, you are warned. This piece contains spoilers concerning the end of The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies. Do not read if you are not prepared to be spoiled. If you have already seen the film, good for you. You are in for another dose of heartbreak and feels. Yay!_

_I do not claim any rights to anything owned by or related to The Hobbit or any Hobbit-related companies or persons. Purely for entertainment._

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**MY SISTER-SONS  
**_or How one can be so blind_

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_What did I ever give them? A quest to break their spirits and a home of golden light that they never treasured. A sickness in my mind to break their hearts and a war that was not theirs. I never gave, I only took. They offered and I took. So much was lost today… Fíli, my heir. So much may still be lost, be Kíli still alive._

_Did I just take their lives away? Did I give them death?_

Fíli. I was not there when you were born. Three weeks old you were when I stepped into my sister's home and found her cradling you to her chest by the fire, singing songs of old and new. You were strong from the beginning. Long was your hair and early the first hairs on your chin. You liked to braid my hair and your mother's, and wondered often why I did not grow a beard of my own. I told you once, and then again and again. You loved the tales, even before you were able to understand them. Tales of brave warriors and great battles. You knew not that I was in them. Your father would ask me not to speak of such evil things until you were of age, but I did not listen. Oh, Mahal, why did I not listen? Was I taking your childhood from you already then?

Five years old. You had walked barely ten steps on your own. You crawled around the house, pretending to be a warg and and a lion. The little lion of Durin, we would say. And you would ask to sit on your mother's growing stomach and listen through the skin, already so fond of the new life growing inside of her. You were a little rascal on your own then, growing to be a pain as well as a blessing. Then came Kíli.

Kíli. Your birth was not an easy one, and more than once we thought we would loose both you and your mother. But true to your heritage, you survived. And you would grow to become to embodiment of life. Dark of eyes unlike most of our kin, from your father's side most likely. Fíli never left your side, so thrilled was he to have a brother of his own, like I had once had mine. Together you were unstoppable, in mind and spirit and body. You were strong, but Fíli was stronger. You, Fíli, was fast, but your brother was faster. I wanted to have you trained by the best, like I had been when I grew up, but your father would have none of it. I respected his wishes, although reluctant. I let you roam the hills of the Blue Mountains, dirty your clothes and bruise your knees. I let you believe that you looked like real warriors as you beat each other up with sticks.

Then you lost your father.

He was a great man, and I did not want to ask him to come. But as a commoner with no royal blood, he was by law required to fall in line once the horns of war sounded. And they did, and he did. And although not many lives were lost in that battle, your father was a carver of stone and not a warrior. An orch had his head and I returned to your mother with his helmet and sword. She still has them hanging above the fireplace, I think. She might take them down now, when so much has changed and so much more has been lost…

Although the sorrow was very close, it did not break your young sprits. Had you been older, the pain might have been deeper. But Kíli was too young to understand, and you, Fíli, had your brother to look after. You were strong for him, and we were strong for the two of you. And although I could not be a father to you, I think that is something that you did not understand either.

From that day, much was different. I ordered my best warriors to train you with axe and sword and spear. Fíli. You excelled at almost every weapon. Daggers, axes, maces and swords. You always impressed when I came by to watch. You needed little tutelage and would always show off your skills with pride and honor.

Kíli. I do not know what to think of you. You were as strong as any young lad, but you never did master the arts of the axe or mace. You always favored a single sword, the lightest you could find, and you would ignore most traditional techniques and come up with your own. Your agility was unequaled, but that is a less honorable skill among dwarves.

Please, do not mistake my words for shame. You never shamed me or anyone else, even though the words of others may have had you think otherwise. Yes, I drilled you hard on things you would have rather skipped. Yes, I may have compared you to your brother on things that I have no right to comment. But I did it with the best of interests.

You always were a little rebel, my young heir. You seldom did what you were told, and your older brother would play along and come up with schemes of his own. You fought as a team, never one without the other. At first we tried to hold you separate — a foolish notion I grant. But then again, we were not foolish enough. Truth be told, we would never have discovered your excellence with a bow had we not followed our foolish idea to separate you from your brother.

Oh, my sister-sons. You do not know how much I love you. I watched you grow and mature, although maturity is a matter of perspective. I knew you were meant for great things from the day your first drew breath, and that you would perform greatness in the world until your very last. If only the world would allow it. The older you grew, the closer came the thoughts of what lay far in the east. Erebor. My kingdom. Here was I, trying to give you the same royal up-bringing as I was given in the golden halls of the Lonely Mountain. How could I offer you that when your true home was still not reclaimed? How could I tutor you, Fíli, to be a King, when your future throne lay buried under the feet of a dragon in a remote land you had never seen?

I could not. The chance came upon me to take back Erebor, to take up and finish the quest my father had lead so many years ago, in the form of a wandering wizard in a grey cloak. And so the quest was decided upon and the preparations started. Years of planning, and many journeys to distant kin seeking help and support. None would help us. No one answered the call. The quest was lost before it even begun. But a few brave souls still found me worthy of my crown and came to me, armed with the easiest of weapons and threadbare clothes. A few warriors, yes, but commoners the rest of them.

And then there were you. Fíli and Kíli, proud heirs of Durin, who would not listen to me when I told you to stay. Who took up arms and followed me without question. Maybe I should have forced you to stay. Maybe I should have asked you first. I saw in your hearts defiance and folly, and then I saw the pride and selflessness and magnificence of true princes.

So I brought you along.

_If only I could have seen it before. I tried to give them all, and yet I took everything from them. Their home, their youth, their future. What am I, then? A king with his crown and blood on his hands. My line is over, be my fears realized. Oh, Mahal, may it not be so. May the line of Durin remain strong in Kíli, if not by some miracle Fíli is still alive._

_But I think not. Foolish hopes are these. For no one survives a fall like that, and I know Kíli too well._

_What did I ever give them?_

_Oh._

_Master burglar._

_Or Bilbo, was that your name? I'm glad to see you alive and well._

_Do not weep for me, my friend. The end is neigh and darkness descends over me. May the last I see in this world not be your teary eyes. I have seen enough sadness this day, in the eyes of my nephews. You saw them too. So please, go now. Go now back to the place we took you from. Plant your trees and delve into your books. May my last deed in this world not be to take your life from you, like I took theirs. Live on, so that I can say that I at least spared your life._

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**Crying now? However horrible it is to say, I hope you are! Please, tell me what you think of the story in a review, whatever your thoughts may be! I love to read what you have to say! 3**

**/ Viola of the Shire**


End file.
